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Authors: Lois Greiman

Finding Home (9 page)

BOOK: Finding Home
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She raised her brows at him.
“To make things easier.”
“Like I said before, I can't make a decision until the calves are on the ground and that—”
“I know, and I don't want to rush you. Really, I don't.”
“Then—”
He held up a placating hand, opened his mouth, then paused and canted his head a little. “Do I smell fresh bread?” he asked, eyes narrowed slightly.
“I don't . . .” Casie began, but Emily was already speaking.
“I'm trying a new recipe. Oatmeal rosemary rolls.”
“Really?” He couldn't have looked more thrilled if he'd just discovered that they would be dining with the Queen Mum. “Homemade bread? My mother used to make the best tea rolls in the tristate area.”
“Why don't you stay for dinner?” Emily asked, and sounded absurdly as if she actually hoped he would.
Casie gritted her teeth at the idea, then smiled wanly when Jaegar turned toward her.
“Are you sure I'm not imposing?”
She was sure he was. Exhaustion rode her like a city dude with new spurs and the house wasn't exactly company friendly, but at least Emily had made some strides in cleaning the kitchen.
“Of course not,” Emily said. “Come on in. You can be my taste tester while Miss Carmichael gets cleaned up.”
“You're sure you don't mind?” he asked, turning toward Casie.
“Of course not,” she said and reminded herself to send Emily packing first thing in the morning, but by the time she pushed her stocking feet under the table she felt entirely different. The beef stew was as thick as honey and the butter melting on the little fresh-baked rolls was seductive enough to make her swoon.
Even Jaegar, perpetual salesman, was silent while they ate. And he ate a lot.
“You sure you don't want that last roll?” he asked, turning toward Emily. “You've hardly eaten a thing.”
“No. Go ahead,” she said. “My stomach's a little wonky tonight. Please, help yourself.”
They didn't have to tell him twice. Finally, he heaved a satisfied sigh and leaned back from the table.
“That,” he said, “was the best meal I've had outside my mother's kitchen.”
“Miss Carmichael's taught me so much,” Emily said, at which point Miss Carmichael was caught with a coughing jag. Emily ignored her. “But she's been really busy with the livestock lately so I've been embellishing some of her recipes.”
Jaegar shook his golden head and glanced at Casie as she valiantly tried to subdue her coughing. “You are a woman of endless talents.”
“I—” she began, fully prepared to disavow any foolish notions he might be harboring, but Emily interrupted.
“She can ride bucking horses, too.”
“What's that?”
“You should see her on a horse,” Emily said. “She's bitchin'.”
“I can't—” Casie began, but Emily was talking over her.
“She's so modest,” she said, and pulling a tiny camera from who-knows-where, clicked a few buttons and passed the thing to Philip.
He stared at the narrow screen in wide-eyed amazement for what seemed forever.
Casie shot her gaze to Emily, but the girl only smiled blissfully.
“My God,” he said, still staring. “Is that the same horse she was brushing this morning?”
“Sure,” Emily said. “She rode the buck right out of him. He's tame as a kitten now.”
“What are you talking about?” Casie asked.
Jaegar handed the camera over. The screen had captured the scene in vivid color. But the image looked nothing like her. Her face was shining with something she knew to be terror, but almost looked like excitement. Her hair, dirty blond in real life, had caught the citrine gleam of the setting sun in every dancing lock, and her legs were splayed wide as if she were spurring the horse to greater heights.
“Is that really you?” Jaegar asked.
“Well . . .” Casie began, a little stunned by the idea that it was possibly the click of the camera that had sent the horse into his murderous frenzy in the first place. “Yes. It's me, but I'm afraid Emily's overstating. A half a second after that picture was taken I was lying neck deep in the muck with the horse bucking off into the sunset. I've been walking like Quasimodo ever since.”
“But it never stopped her,” Emily said. “Shi—”
Casie cast a scowl in her direction.
“I mean,
dang,
” she corrected and grinned like a devilish urchin. “She didn't even whine about it. Just headed off to the pasture to check the cows. Didn't see her again for hours.”
“Really?”
“She's like June Cleaver and John Wayne, all rolled into one.”
“June Cleaver?” Casie said.
Emily grinned. “I like my retro TV.”
“Actually,” Jaegar began, and suddenly he looked a little nervous. A little jittery. “That's why I came.”
They turned toward him in unison.
“You have a thing for the Beav's mom?” Emily asked.
“No.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together. “I umm . . . Well . . . you met my daughter.”
They stared at him for a moment, thinking their own thoughts.
“Sophie,” Emily said finally, deadpan.
“She's very pretty,” Casie said quickly, in case Em lost her battle with diplomacy.
“Yes. Yes, she's quite attractive, isn't she? And sweet. I mean . . . I know she came off kind of . . . well, she can seem a little . . . short, but she really loves horses and she didn't realize you'd just taken that animal in.”
They continued to stare. Sophie, they both knew, was hell in heels.
“She's a good kid,” he said and darted his eyes from one to the other. “And smart. Smart as a whip. But since the divorce . . .” He shook his head. “I'm afraid she's bored at my house.”
The room went silent. Casie struggled to fill the void before Emily did. “She's living with you?”
“She wasn't supposed to come until June, but her mother . . .” He said the word carefully. Maybe to hold back the vitriol. “Well, she had a chance to go to Europe for her business, so I got the opportunity to have Soph with me a couple months early.”
More silence. Casie didn't even try to fill it.
“She's a great girl,” he added hastily. “But it's been . . .” He paused, shook his head. “It's been difficult for her to get used to Amber.”
“Amber?” Casie said, thinking the name was familiar.
“His girlfriend.” Emily's tone was absolutely certain, her eyes dead sure.
Casie glanced at her in surprise.
“Right?” she asked, expressionless.
“Well . . .” He smiled. “My fiancée, actually,” he corrected and sighed. “That's why I stopped back.”
“I don't understand.”
“He wants us to take Sophie in,” Emily said.
Casie sat absolutely still, waiting for the words to sink in, but they failed to do so.
“Listen . . .” He laughed. “I'm not saying you should adopt her or anything. But she's got nothing to do in my condo. And you said yourself that horses are good for kids. She loves animals, so she could help you out.”
“Help me with—”
“Breaking horses . . . or whatever you do. Kind of a paying guest.”
“Breaking—”
“I mean . . . Listen . . .” He slowed his pace. “I'm a great judge of character, Cassandra. And you're. . . .” He shook his head, still staring at her. “You'd be good for her. And it wouldn't be forever or anything. Just a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of—” Casie began, but Emily interrupted.
“She does need a mother figure.”
Casie blinked and turned slowly toward the girl. “I'm not a mother.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jaegar grinned. “Look at you, you're like Mother Earth. The organic garden, the horses, the baby animals. You could teach her so much.”
The man was obviously delusional. She opened her mouth, maybe to tell him as much. Which meant it was entirely possible she hadn't completely gotten over her outrageous candidness. Head trauma can do strange things.
“I mean, Amber's great,” he hurried to add. “Don't get me wrong. But she's young. Well . . .” He laughed. “It's not as if I'm robbing the cradle or anything but . . . well . . . maybe it would be more fair to say she's inexperienced.” He thought about that for a second. “In . . . life. Anyway, I'm not asking for favors . . . exactly.” He looked a little desperate now, making Casie wonder what
exactly
Sophie had done to the young, inexperienced Amber. “I would compensate you, of course.”
Casie sat silent, then finally managed, “I really appreciate your faith in me, Mr. Jaegar, but—”
“I don't know,” Emily said, dragging the last word out a little as if musing aloud. “Our Cowgirl Camp is pretty pricey.”
“What?” Philip asked.
“What?” Casie echoed.
“The Cowgirl Camp,” Emily repeated, solemn as a preacher as she ignored Casie and focused all her attention on Jaegar. “I assumed you must have heard of our plans. The Lazy is going to be kind of a guest ranch, kind of an equestrian training center. It's a program for women . . . something to enrich their lives.” She narrowed her eyes and formed a fist above the table. “To give them the skills necessary to make them valuable members of society. It's astounding how empowering it is for women to learn to manage a thousand-pound horse.”
“Are you out of your . . .” Casie began, but Emily muscled in again.
“It's just in its formative stages, of course. And since your daughter would be our first guest, we'd be willing to give you a discount.”
“I knew it!” he said, shifting his gaze from one to the other. “When you acted so uncertain about selling the place I knew you must have some sort of scheme in mind. And as much as I hate to lose the commission, I have to admit, you'll be wonderful at this.”
“Mr. Jaegar . . .”
“I'm so pleased.”
“Mr. Jaegar . . .”
“This'll be just what she—”
“It'll be two thousand dollars a week,” Emily said.
“Two . . .” He blinked, maybe paled a little. “That seems a bit steep.”
“Mr. Jaegar,” Emily said. The stern expression on her unlined face would have made a schoolmarm squirm. “You cannot put a price on the kind of foundation Miss Carmichael can give a young, impressionable girl.”
He blinked once, glanced at Casie, then blinked again as he turned back to Emily. “You're right,” he said and nodded. “You're absolutely right. You've got yourself a deal.”
C
HAPTER
10
“T
hanks so much for stopping by.” Emily smiled as she closed the door firmly behind Philip Jaegar and turned back toward the kitchen.
But Casie blocked her way. Anger, confusion, and shock had been blended to a heady mixture in her emotional brew. She stared at the girl in tense anticipation.
“What?”
Emily asked.
“What? What!” Emotions broke like a dam inside Casie's well-departmentalized system. She waved a wild hand toward their departing guest. “What was that all about?”
Emily blinked as if entirely stupefied. “What do you mean? This is great. We've got our first customer.”
“Our first—”
“But, you know . . .” The girl squeezed past her and began industriously clearing the table as if this was just another day on the farm. “We probably shouldn't call them customers.
Guests
is a more PC term. We want to be extremely sensitive about our terminology. Customer service is of utmost importance in—”
“Are you out of your mind?” Casie asked, but she was pretty sure Emily wasn't the only one who had suddenly slipped off the deep end and into the abyss of insanity. She felt as crazy as a locoed yearling. “The Lazy isn't a
dude
ranch.”
“A dude ranch!” Emily turned toward her, eyes wide and earnest, a dirty plate in each hand. “Of course not. It's an equestrian center designed to assist young—”
“An equestrian . . .” Casie paused and shook her head. “What are you talking about? Who
are
you?”
“I'm Emily Kane,” she said. With a wry glance in Casie's direction, she hastily set one dirty plate atop the other and extended her hand as if they were meeting for the first time. “Assistant wrangler of the Lazy Windmill, the place where . . .” She paused, shifted her eyes sideways, and scrunched up her face as if deep in thought. “. . . injured? No. Wounded? No,” she said, then lit up like a candle. “Where
broken
souls come to heal, and—”
“You have to leave,” Casie said. Her voice sounded worn and distant to her own ears.
Emily lowered her hand, her mocha-colored face going suddenly pale. “What?”
Casie shook her head. “This isn't working out.”
“Listen . . .” Panic filled the girl's eyes. She moved forward, but Casie backed away a step, trying to physically distance herself from such overt insanity. “I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought—”
“What?” Casie asked, her voice rising unexpectedly. “That you could highjack my life? That you could tell me what's right? Tell me what's wrong? Force me to live like you want me to?”
Emily cocked her head, her expression rife with worry and uncertainty. “What?”
Casie closed her eyes. Insanity swirled around her like a whirling dervish, and it wasn't the girl's fault. She knew that. But where did the blame lie exactly? “Nothing, I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “It's just . . . this . . .” She waved her hand. “This isn't working out. You'll have to find somewhere else to—”
“No! No,” Emily said and clattered the plates back onto the table to hurry forward. “I just thought we . . .
you
maybe needed some extra cash and as long as you're here and you're so good with kids and Sophie obviously needs help and—”
“I'm not good with kids. What makes you think I'm good with kids?”
Emily reached out to grasp Casie's arms. “Because you're good with everything, Case.”
The words were said with such reverent earnestness that for a second Casie was speechless, but she remedied that in a second. “I wish I could help you,” she said and shook her head, trying to disavow the girl's ridiculous outburst. But suddenly Emily was on her knees.
“Please.” The word was little more than a croak. “Forgive me.”
Casie resisted stumbling back an additional step and merely stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“I didn't mean to upset you.”
“Well, then . . .” The sight of the girl on her knees made her feel disoriented and oddly panicked. “Get up.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You don't—”
“I thought maybe I could help. That's all.”
“You can't help,” Casie said. “I'm going back to Saint Paul. Remember? Back to—” she began, but sudden memories reared up. Memories of a sterile apartment. Of days spent sitting behind a reception desk while office politics twittered around her like angry birds.
“What?” Emily asked and rose slowly from her knees. “What are you going back to?”
There was something in the girl's eyes, a world-weary understanding that jolted Casie from her foolish uncertainty. “Sanity,” she said.
“Maybe sanity's overrated.”
Casie shook her head. “Emily, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but—”
“Then why not give it a try?” The girl's voice was breathy with sincerity, her eyes bright with hope, and for a moment Casie was almost drawn into the fantasy. But reality reared its ugly head again.
She barked a laugh. “Because this is crazy. Certifiably insane. I can't make a living here. I don't—”
“Who says?”
“What?”
“Who says we can't make a living here?”
“There is no
we,
” Casie insisted. Frustration and uncertainty were making her mean. “You have to go home. I have to go back to Saint Paul.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” She threw up her hands as if physically searching for a sanity that seemed to be slipping farther and farther behind her.
“See. You can't even think of a reason.”
“Bradley,” she said. “I'm engaged to be married. Remember?”
The girl's eyes were somber now, her body taut. “Was he the one who said a woman can't run a ranch?”
“No one said that,” Casie argued, but a small voice in her head whispered that he believed it. Brad and her father would have agreed on that point if nothing else. “It's my choice to . . .” She shook her head.
“To what? To be a
receptionist?
”
“Administrative assistant,” Casie corrected, then struggled to get back on course. “Listen, Emily . . . Maybe this seems romantic to you. The—” She swept a hand sideways, indicated the cattle ruminating on the softly rolling hills, the shaggy horses bedded down not a hundred feet from where they stood. “The ranch thing. But this isn't a fairy tale. This is real life. And it'll wear you down. It'll beat you up and leave you bleeding.”
“Well, I'm not saying we're going to be living like the Amish out here,” Emily said. “I mean, that Jaegar guy is willing to pay a couple grand a week.”
“That's because he thinks we're running some sort of elite horse spa or something.”
“Elite . . .” She snorted the word. “Look around you, Case. He's seen what you see every day. He's seen it and wants it for his my-shit-don't-stink daughter.”
For a moment Casie almost chuckled, but surely it wouldn't be a good idea to encourage such crazy ideas. She glanced around. The front door was warped, the linoleum worn through, the curtains faded and ugly. She stifled a wince. “Why do you suppose he hates her so much?” she asked.
Emily was silent for a second, then hooted a laugh. “You don't know what you've got here, Casie.”
“Oh . . .” She paused, nerves jangling like jingle bob spurs. “About a hundred thousand in debt.”
“A hundred thousand . . .” For a moment Emily looked as if the number would literally knock her off her feet, but she rallied. “Well, then you
need
that two grand a week, don't you?”
Casie opened her mouth to speak, but Emily rushed on. “And once we get things rolling, we can get more. Hell, the bunkhouse can sleep six and there's—”
“Bunkhouse?”
Emily shrugged and waved vaguely toward the north. “The bunkhouse.”
“That's a chicken coop, Emily.”
“You said yourself it was used for the ranch hands.”
“A hundred years ago.”
“Well, maybe our guests will want to pretend they're
living
a hundred years ago. People are nostalgic.” She curled her fingers near her chest. “They're yearning for a simpler life. A better life.”
“In the chicken coop?”
She laughed. “Believe me, Philip Jaegar would bring his daughter here even if you told him she was going to sleep in a cardboard box with the sheep. But that would be kind of rude. I mean, there's room in the house. Until we get more guests, we might as well keep them in here with us.”
Casie honestly didn't know what to argue about first. “Guests! Here? More . . . Are you nuts! I'm not taking in more than one overprivileged princess.”
For a moment Emily stood absolutely motionless, but then she nodded solemnly. “No. You're right. Of course. We'll just . . . we'll just concentrate on Sophie.”
Casie scowled. For the life of her she wasn't sure what had just happened. “Well . . .” She sighed and narrowed her eyes at the girl. “I do need to pay rent.”
“Rent?”
“For the apartment.”
“Oh. Sure.” Her expression was atypically bland. “In Saint Paul.”
“But there should be enough left over to buy feed and hold the wolves at bay for a while.”
“That's all I was thinking.”
Casie gave her a wary glance. “But I'm not doing this alone.”
For one protracted moment something raw and elemental glowed in the girl's amber eyes. It looked as poignant as hope, as painful as optimism, but in a second it was gone, replaced by businesslike understanding.
“I know. I'll help out in any way I can.”
Casie gave her a jaundiced glare. It was entirely possible that she had just been played.
“I'm a good worker,” Emily said. “You know I am.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Casie tried to ignore the funny little niggle of something that sparked in her chest. It couldn't have been happiness. So it was probably that pesky insanity problem again. “I guess nobody—”
“. . . never drowned in her own sweat,” Emily finished and they laughed, though Casie knew far better than to be hopeful. In another five days of tilling gardens and mending fence Emily Kane would probably hate her guts.
 
“Hey.”
Casie awoke with a start, panic bursting inside her. “What? What's wrong?”
“I'm not sure, but—”
“Emily?” She was trying hard to get her bearings, to still the wild thundering of her heart. Nightmares were nothing new to her, but they'd been fairly absent since she'd returned to the Lazy and fell into bed physically exhausted every night.
“Yeah. It's me.” Emily shifted her weight in the hazy rectangle of light that outlined her from the hallway. “Who were you expecting?”
“I just . . . What's wrong?”
“I think there's something funny with one of the yearlings.”
“What?” She was trying to catch up, but it was as dark as pitch outside her window, leaving her entirely unable to guess the time. At midnight she'd found four new lambs and had subsequently applied iodine to their navels to prevent infections. After that she'd fed the bums, the lambs without mothers, but the newest of the set in the basement was still not nursing well, making a thirty-minute job take hours. The lack of sleep had left her mind muzzy, her muscles slow to respond. “What time is it?”
“I don't know. About five thirty, I suppose.”
“Five—”
“I had the predawn check, remember?”
“Oh . . .” Geez, where was her head? After Jaegar's last visit, Casie had decided that if Emily was clever enough to manipulate her into starting a dude ranch, she was clever enough to pull her weight. Truth be told, Casie had been pretty sure the pint-sized teenager wouldn't make it through a week of night checks, but it had been nearly ten days since they'd agreed to take Sophie in. Ten days of grueling preparation punctuated with regular backbreaking chores and horrendous sleep schedules. In less than a week Sophie Jaegar would arrive. “Yeah. Predawn check. I know. But you don't have to worry about the yearlings. Just the pregnant moms.”
“I was just walking past the heifer pasture . . . you know . . . on my way to the calving barn.”
Calving barn
was a euphemism for the building that held ten times more junk than most underdeveloped countries owned.
BOOK: Finding Home
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